Shannon remembered living with Brian back in Sydney. They had been a perfect match. Both remarkably self-centered, each wrapped up in scans and cons of their own, and each knowing, without a doubt, why Shannon closed her eyes when they made love.

To his credit, it hadn't taken Brian long to figure everything out. He knew there was another guy, sure, but it had taken a few weeks to figure out his pretty new girlfriend was in love with her brother. To be honest, it really amused Brian. Hell, it turned him on. When Shannon first talked about luring Boone to Sydney, Brian toyed with the idea of asking if he could watch. A brother and sister going at it was a new one, even for a seasoned sexual pro like Brian.

Now, lying in the mud—the mud!!—in the middle of the jungle on some godforsaken island, Shannon flirted with the idea of pretending the sleeping man in her arms was someone other than Boone. Someone other than the beloved big brother she had tried to protect these past fifteen years. If only she were stranded with Brian or Paolo or any of the other losers she had hooked up with over the years, everything would be okay. Instead, she was trapped in an isolated hell with the person she loved, feared and hated more than anyone on Earth.

Boone also had the unseemly habit of drooling in his sleep. Disgusted, she used his shirt to wipe the spittle off his cheek. Boone moaned at the touch. "Shannon," he mumbled.

"I'm here, Boone," she whispered. "Go back to sleep."

He snuggled in closer to her, his larger body somehow managing to curl into hers.

She wrapped her arms tighter around him, holding him closer. If she could somehow manage to roll Boone up, roly-poly like, she would keep him inside her body forever. She'd protect him, nourish him, keep him safe, much like expectant mothers shield their unborn children. Boone needed protection. He was able to take care of Shannon, sure, but no one had ever taught him how to protect his own interests, his own emotions, his own heart. For that very reason, he had fallen in love with his baby sister, the one woman who was capable of slaying him with a glare or an unkind word.

Shannon glanced down into Boone's sleeping face. Despite his red cheek and kiss-swollen lips, he still looked like the big brother she had climbed into bed with as a child. Every asthma attack had sent her scampering to Boone's side. He always had her medicine, always knew how to tease her out of her fright. Thunderstorms, on the other hand, were Boone's phobia. But instead of holding his hand or playing Monopoly by candlelight, Shannon had ridiculed his fear. She and Sabrina had turned Boone into the frightened, insecure rabbit he was now.

He wore his insecurity like a bright red scarf. Everyone saw it. The hangdog, woebegone expression in Boone's eyes all but begged people to take advantage of him, to scorn him, to beat him emotionally and physically. Thinking back, Shannon realized almost every man on the island had already taken a swing at Boone. So, Shannon thought, wincing, had she. She had slapped him hours earlier, slapped him for merely protecting her.

But then, looking back, she had been mentally slapping him for years.

That night in Sydney—the night they had made love—that had been Shannon's hardest slap of all. She wanted Boone's very spirit to bleed. Somehow, seeing disappointment in his eyes always made her feel powerful. His sorrows were her joys. Yet he always rode to her rescue. He always played the hero.

Easing away from Boone, Shannon began slipping into her clothes. Just like the night in Sydney, she left him nude while she remained fully clothed. Back then, his nakedness had increased her sense of power and conquest. Now, she didn't feel worthy enough to be in such close contact with someone so beautiful, so perfect. Her clothes covered her own unworthiness. Boone, ah Boone had nothing to hide. The stark nakedness in his eyes always revealed his heart.

Once she was dressed, Shannon propped her back against the tree and slid Boone's head into her lap. Her fingers traced the bite on his lip, caressed the bruised cheek, and gingerly explored the knot on his head. So many injuries…yet Boone had been injured for years. The difference here was that his injuries showed. The world was unable to look away.

"Shannon?" Boone said sleepily, reaching up to still her fingers. "That's still sore, you know."

"You shouldn't be hanging out with Locke so much," she said, absent-mindedly. She wondered why Boone instead on spending so much time with Locke.

She wondered what Locke had in mind for Boone.

One thing was certain: Shannon did not trust John Locke. "Are you ever going to tell me what happened, why he hit you?"

Boone was silent for a long time. Shannon ran her fingers through his hair, brushed grass and leaves off his forehead, massaged his temples. For the first time in her life, she was going to be patient with Boone. She was going to let him bloom in his own sweet time.

"He made me think you were dead."

Well, that was the last thing Shannon expected. She jerked in surprise, jolting Boone's head from her lap. His head cracked on the jungle floor. Instead of crying out or snapping at Shannon's carelessness, Boone lay still, his eyes squeezed shut. To Shannon's absolute horror, two fat tears fell from beneath his closed eyelids.

"Boone?" She asked, frightened.

He drew a great, sobbing breath. "I should have died in the crash," he choked, more tears streaking down his face. "It would have been better for everyone."

"I can't believe you just said that!" Shannon screamed. She reached down and grabbed his naked shoulders, forcing him to sit up and face her. He stared at the ground, his chest heaving, unable to ebb the flow of tears. She shook his shoulders. "Look at me, damn you!"

Reluctantly, Boone met her hard, unforgiving glare. "I am nothing, and no one, without you. You are everything that is good about me. Any innocence, any human kindness inside me, is all because of you. Without you, I wouldn't survive." She stopped, drawing in a sharp breath. "I love you, Boone."

Boone's eyes widened. "You've never told me---"

Shannon shrugged one arm. "But you've always known it, right?"

Boone looked adorably skeptical. "I'm not sure what you're saying, Shannon."

"If it makes you feel any better, I'm not sure what I'm saying," Shannon admitted. "I just know…I just know Sydney changed things."

"You were drunk in Sydney," Boone said. He absently began playing with two stray rocks. "It didn't mean anything."

"I don't mean the sex, you idiot," Shannon snapped. "Things changed long before the sex. I remember watching Brian hit you, remember you taking all those blows…" she shuddered. "But then, you've always been taking blows for me, haven't you, Boone?"

Boone shrugged. He was looking at the ground again. Shannon sighed. If Boone couldn't look his baby sister in the eye, how was he ever going to survive? How could she toughen him up, yet allow him to remain sweet and kind?

Boone suddenly seemed to notice his nudity. "I'd better get dressed before your boyfriend comes looking for us," he said, reaching for his shirt.

"Or yours?" She shot back.

Boone didn't even flinch. "Locke and I are going back to the hatch. He's certain it is important."

"What do you think?" Shannon asked.

Boone slipped back into his pants. "I think Locke has a nice butt."

"Okay, that's disgusting, Boone, even for you," Shannon snapped, crossing her arms over

her chest. They were back in annoying big-brother, naughty little-sister mode. Fine. If that's the way he wanted things, she could play along. If he was so determined to forget they had spent the last two hours in the most delightful mixture of pleasure-pain imaginable, then so would she.

After all, she could do those same things with Sayid.

But she wanted Boone.

Boone started walking away from the clearing. Then, almost as an afterthought, he glanced back at her. "Are you ready to go back to camp?"

So this is what it had been like for him in Sydney. Then, she had been the one cold and callous, the one ready to forget everything. They had spent hours making love in his hotel room, and she told him she wanted to forget everything. She had told him that, when they got back to LA, they would once again play the bickering brother and sister game. She had made him feel cold and used.

Much like she felt now.

God, she had to keep him here. She didn't want Boone leaving her, didn't want to be without him. Most of all, she didn't want her brother alone with John Locke. Locke. Shannon sat up straighter. "How did Locke make you believe I was dead?"

"Can we talk about this later? We really should be getting back."

Shannon shook her head. "Nope, I want to know now."

"You are such a brat, Shannon," Boone said, scowling. All the same, walked back toward her. "Okay, you know Locke and I found the hatch."

"Right. But what does this have to do with me being dead?"

"Would you shut up and listen? I'm getting there," Boone sat down beside her. Their shoulders brushed, but otherwise, they did not touch. "I wanted to tell you about the hatch, about what we were doing in the jungle. You had figured out we weren't hunting."

Shannon tossed her hair. "You never came back with any food. Even you'd have to get lucky once and accidentally catch something."

"Thanks for that vote of confidence, Shannon," Boone said dryly. "Anyway, Locke didn't want me to tell you. He wanted to keep the hatch a secret between the two of us."

"Why" Shannon demanded.

Boone shrugged. "Beats me. Who knows what goes on inside Locke's mind. When I turned my back, he hit me on the head. When I woke up, Locke was spreading some sort of drugged goo on my head."

Shannon wrinkled her nose. "Drugged goo?"

"Whatever it was he put on my head made me have some far out hallucinations. I literally found you stretched out on some rocks, torn to shreds by the monster. You died in my arms."

Shannon thought for a moment. There was one question she was desperate to ask, yet she was almost certain she didn't want to hear Boone's answer. Yes, she was interested in why Locke had taken such an interest in her brother. She wondered why Locke had drugged him. Dozens of questions tumbled over each other like a waterfall in her mind, but one in particular stood out: How did Boone feel when he thought she was dead?

She took a deep breath. Shannon had never been afraid of questions, never shied away from confrontation, and she wasn't about to start now. "How did you feel when you thought I was dead?"

He took a moment in answering. She saw anguish, embarrassment and shame play across his face. There was something he didn't want her to know, something he was ashamed to admit. She grabbed his shoulders and forced him to meet her gaze. "How did you feel, Boone?"

Boone stared straight into her eyes. "I felt relieved."

Shannon dropped her hands from his shoulders. "You felt relieved?" She repeated faintly. "What do you mean, relieved?"

"I mean, I felt free of you. I didn't have to play the hero anymore. No more riding to Shannon's rescue, no more putting my life on hold to keep you from falling apart. I was free from whatever spell you had over me."

"Spell? You think I put a spell on you?" Shannon spat angrily.

Boone ran a hand through his hair, already tangled and messy from their lovemaking. "You know what I mean, Shannon!"

"Yes, I know exactly what you mean," she retorted, scrambling to her feet. "You mean you no longer had to feel guilty about being in love with your little sister."

Boone didn't deny this. He remained on the ground, staring up at her. "I'm glad my death eased your conscious," she snapped.

"Shannon…" Boone reached for her hand, but Shannon snatched it away. If Boone wanted her gone that badly, she would be more than happy to comply.

"Tell you what, Boone," she said. Her voice was eerily calm. "From this moment on, I am dead to you. You longer have to worry about me. Maybe you'll luck out and the island monster really will kill me."

"Shannon, listen to me!" Boone cried, also getting to his feet. "I don't want you to be dead. You are not dead to me, do you understand? I love you, Shannon!"

"Okay, let me rephrase that," Shannon said coolly. "You, big brother, are dead to me. Now if you'll excuse me, Sayid is waiting for me."

She stomped off into the jungle, leaving Boone staring after her, his chest heavy with sobs and regret.